Away
by Chelsey Nova
Summary: His hand reached for her, and whether it was in an attempt to strangle her or caress her, she didn't know.  She didn't care.  She just needed to feel his touch.


Away

**Author's Note: **I do not own Red Eye nor do I own Jackson or Lisa. This story is just something that developed in my mind one day, and I hope you all enjoy it. It's my first attempt at a Red Eye fic, so please don't be too cruel. :) The song I've used is "Away" by Breaking Benjamin.

_Cold am I_

_I'm beside myself because there's no one else_

_Have I grown so blind?_

_Only God could save you if you knew your way to the light_

_So fly away and leave it behind_

_Just stay awake_

_There's nowhere to hide_

Lisa Reisert woke with a start to the thick, hot night pressing its scorching hands against her face. She'd been dreaming again, the type of dream that made her twist and turn in her sheets until they were a massive, tangled mess of thick, linen vines entwined around her bare legs. Lisa was sweating, a surprisingly cold sweat that chilled her straight to the bone. She turned her head to glance at the clock, brushing away the damp, auburn curls that were plastered against her slick forehead. The cruel red numbers screamed at her. 3:15 a.m. Lisa let out a frustrated moan. This was the fifth time this week that she had suffered from these dreams. Jackson attacking her against a wall, Jackson inside of her, Jackson stalking towards her with a 12 inch KA-BAR, Jackson moving above her. In this particular dream, Jackson had been moving beneath her as she straddled him. She'd had entire control, something she wasn't used to when it came to the likes of him. He'd always had the upper hand, always been one step ahead of her.

Truthfully, it scared her and thrilled her at the very same time.

The idea of Jackson calling all the shots had been frightening for all of the obvious reasons: demanding her to sentence someone to death via telephone, threatening to take her father out if she didn't obey, head-butting her into a state of unconsciousness... Need she go on? But somehow, in some twisted, depraved way that Lisa wouldn't even try to understand, she'd _enjoyed _it, had taken sick comfort in it. Her life, if you could even call it one, had been set to cruise control for the past two years, and Lisa had begun to grow weary of the "day-to-day." Her so-called life had become so stale, so predictable, so work-oriented for so long that it had actually felt _good _to have someone else take hold of the reins for awhile, even if that someone else was Jackson. Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone but herself, she was rather fond of easing her grip on things, of losing control. She guessed it could be acknowledged as a guilty pleasure. Lisa rarely ever let herself go, and hardly had the time to partake in anything pleasurable. Losing self-control, letting go of the steering wheel of her life made her feel weightless, as though she were floating away into a delicious oblivion. And only Jackson would be the one to slip her a dose of this dangerous drug, send her on an intense high, and then quickly take it all away and pull her back down to earth with a few psychological blows.

Yes. Only Jackson.

Lisa sat up in her double bed and kicked away the sheets that were currently holding her legs hostage. She swiftly turned her body and positioned herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the hefty mattress, her legs carelessly dangling over the side. Her fingers found the edge of the bedding and gripped it tightly, so tightly that in the soft light that projected from the little night light in the corner that she now found impossible to sleep without, she could see her knuckles had turned a ghostly white. The logical part of her inner self whispered to her that she should climb back under the cotten duvet and try to get back to sleep. After all, she had to be at the Lux Atlantic early tomorrow morning. The other part of her, the sinister part that she'd been listening to and obeying as of late willed her to get up, to go into the living room and turn on a classic movie.

To go sort out her thoughts about Jackson over a cup of coffee.

After this familiar debate within herself, the latter of the two voices won her over, as it usually did, and Lisa lowered herself off of the mattress. Her bare feet hit the cold, wooden floor, sending chills through her body that shuddered her petite frame. She stood to her full height, which was not really much over 5'5, and crossed the room to the door that would lead her out into the hallway. Once in the hallway, she instinctively turned right, in the direction of the kitchen. Lisa didn't turn on any lights, for she knew the layout of her home very well, even in the heavy darkness of the Miami night. At times she thought she knew it _too _well.

A razor blade of ice sliced through her body as she thought that Jackson knew it well, too.

After fixing herself a warm mug of coffee, Lisa entered the living room and settled herself on the large, overstuffed sofa. She took the remote into her free hand and clicked on the television. The tv was the only source of light in the room, illuminating it with an eerie, cerulean glow that reminded her of Jackson's eyes. A classic movie was playing, one of her favorites, but Lisa barely noticed. She merely sipped at her steaming beverage and stared off into the dark depths of her home. She wasn't usually one to daydream, to let her thoughts wander, but when it came to Jackson, she couldn't help herself. It seemed he had a natural talent for bringing out of her all of the things that she didn't even know she was capable of doing.

Too many times had she sat on this very couch, gazing out at nothing over the rim of her coffee cup. Too many times had she peered into this same darkness and imagined him standing in the shadows. Too many times had she felt his warm whisper against her neck. It was utterly pathetic (pathetic, the same word she had spat at him before he'd sent her flying down her father's steps; the same word she could almost see him hissing to her if he could see her in this state: "_Who's the pathetic one now, Leese?_") to be feeling this way after all they'd been through together. Or rather, all that _he'd _put _her _through. He had tricked her into believing he was a decent man, and had quickly ripped apart this charade with just a few words and one menacing threat. He'd _hurt _her, made her feel weak, inferior, like a caged animal, made her feel like she had two years ago in a particular parking lot. He'd tossed her around an airplane bathroom, shook her up, opened her eyes to the monster he could become if she pushed him hard and far enough. Then, in an instant, he'd become an entirely different person, if only for a painfully brief moment. He'd gently thumbed her ugly scar, and a faint flicker of what she thought had been concern sparkled in his eyes.

She remembered the exact words he had murmured to her as he inquired as to how it had gotten there. _"Did someone do that to you?" _He whispered his question to her in such a way that Lisa thought if she could have told him the name of the bastard, he would have hunted him down and murdered him for inflicting any kind of pain on her. That was really the only "compassionate" moment that had existed between the two of them. However, despite his sudden soft exterior, she'd pushed him away, hadn't let him see that far into her. This had earned her another thrashing. He'd strangled her, choked the very life out of her and just before the blackness had taken her over, he'd released his grip on her, only to punish and manipulate her all the more. Lisa _had _gotten a few good hits in: the Frankenstein pen she had forcefully slammed into his throat, the call to the hotel that had saved the lives of the Keefe family and ultimately ruined Jackson's plans, the green vase that had shattered on his head, the head-butt that had sent him hurtling down the flight of stairs, the stiletto heel embedded in his thigh, the bullet that had grazed his lung.

And yet, in spite of all of those things, in the end, Jackson had had the last laugh.

Lisa, no matter how much she despised herself for doing so, couldn't stop thinking about him. He was in every doorway, at every corner, in every thought and every dream. He was etched vividly in her memories, buried deeply within her mind, a poisoned seed that had been planted, and would continue to grow until one day it would erupt and take over her entire being. At night, when she closed her green eyes in an attempt to capture some sleep, flashes of his face danced wildly against her eyelids. And when she opened her eyes, he was hovered above her, breathing heavily, warmly whispering her name in the way someone murmurs to their lover during a long night of ardent lovemaking.

_Leese..._

_I see you 'cause you won't get out of my way_

_I hear you 'cause you won't quit screaming my name_

_I feel you 'cause you won't stop touching my skin_

_I need you, they're coming to take you away_

He was everywhere. He'd been window shopping on 12th Avenue, standing in front of her in line at the corner cafe, reading a well-creased newspaper in the hotel lobby, one leg casually crossed over the other. He rode next to her in her silver Mercedes, stood beside her and hummed along with the radio as she prepared dinner for one. At nighttime, he peered at her through her front window, with nothing but the warm light from the living room to light up his sharp features. Before Lisa closed her eyes to sleep, she could see him sleeping soundly next to her in her bed. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. He attacked every corner of her mind, every second of the day. He made her want to rip her hair right out of her scalp, and at the very same moment made her want to rake her fingers through his own soft locks. She wanted to hurt him, make him bleed, scare him out of his mind and then she wanted to mend his wounds, touch him with a caring hand, kiss away his pain. Lisa wanted so badly to scratch out his eyes, yet at the same time, she wanted to get hopelessly lost in them.

_Those eyes._

Dangerous crystalline waters that reflected emotion when he wanted them to. Eyes she would willingly drown in if she was ever given the chance to gaze into them one more time...

Lisa shook her head at her own foolishness. She shouldn't have been feeling like this. This was the last thing she needed to be doing. After everything she'd been through, she shouldn't be surrendering her thoughts to his memory, shouldn't be spotting him out of the corner of her eye, shouldn't be... _missing _him. After all, why would you miss someone who had put you through hell and back? Actually, Jackson hadn't really brought Lisa all the way back. At least, it didn't feel that way. Lisa felt she still lingered somewhere between the living and the dead. She went about her normal daily routines as best as she knew how, but her heart wasn't in it, her soul wasn't present. Smiles were painfully forced, laughter nearly killed her. She was merely surviving, breathing, eating and sleeping in order to make it through the day. She was a lost cause, and as much as she desperately wanted to, she could not call out for help. She was dry and dying inside, being eaten alive from the inside out, and it was all because of a mysterious man with striking blue eyes.

Jackson Rippner was killing her slowly, softly.

_Frail and dry_

_I could lose it all but I cannot recall it all wrong_

_Don't cry, clear away this hate_

_And we can start to make it all right_

_So fly away and leave it behind_

_Return someday with red in your eyes_

Lisa noticed her coffee cup was empty and numbly set it down on the table beside her. She changed her position on the sofa, lying flat on her back with her head resting on the cushioned arm of the couch. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes searching but finding nothing there. Sometimes, when she was feeling low and bitter, which was actually quite often, she could simply lie there and almost pretend that her very life, her spirit was floating away from her. There were times that she was so out of her element that she could almost swear that if she reached up slightly, she could tickle one of the stars hanging from the night sky. Lisa liked to think of it as her own form of meditation, a natural high. She would almost bet money that if her father knew of this ritual she performed nearly every night that he would probably drag Dr. Phil himself to her home to analyze her.

Lisa shifted onto her side and gazed at the glowing box in the corner. The classic movie had ended, and had been replaced with a rerun of _I Love Lucy._ She tried to focus her attention on the comical scene that was currently playing (Lucy trying to pronounce the name of some wacky medicine), but she found that she couldn't. Instead, Jackson's last words to her rang in her ears.

_"We'll talk again."_

Would he keep true to those words? After all, he'd assured her time and time again that he never lied. One part of her feared those words, the other part embraced them. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as these contradicting thoughts hammered against her skull. She wondered if _he _wondered about _her_. Did he desperately ache for the nearness of her? She hoped that he did. She hoped that he was haunted by her memory just as much as she was tormented by his. She hoped that he faced restless nights, and that when he did manage to find traces of forgiving sleep that his dreams were conquered by surreal visions of her. She hoped that he was slowly melting away into a _pathetic_ puddle of nothingness.

She hoped that the thoughts of her were simply too much for him and yet, not enough. That mere visual snatches of her in his mind would never be able to do justice to actually seeing her in the flesh. That he would give up, give in and come to her from wherever he might be.

Right. Like that would ever happen.

And even if he _did_ come to her in a futile attempt to make things right, they wouldn't be able to lead a happy life together. His job certainly made sure of that. It wasn't as though he could simply walk away from a job such as his. And she certainly wouldn't expect him to try. Not even for her. Though, sometimes she liked to imagine that he would appear at her doorstep and sweep her off of her feet, telling her that he had disengaged himself from his job, telling her to run away with him forever. And then, sometimes when she was feeling hopeless, she thought that maybe his job was a big part of who he was, that perhaps it wasn't even a job at all. Maybe it was something more, something evil that had consumed him, something that guaranteed no room for her in his icy heart.

At this thought, Lisa began to weep like a child.

She cried for some time. She cried until the pounding in her head threatened to shatter her skull. She cried more than she thought anyone had in the history of the world. She cried as hard as she could until she felt physically unable to do so anymore. Her insides were dry and her eyes were swollen. Her cheeks hurt and her body was shaking uncontrollably. She wished that Jackson was there to comfort her, to take her in his arms, and apologize for all the wrong he had done to her. Every bone in her body ached for him, every fiber of her delicate being cried out for his touch. She yearned for him to gently smooth her hair away from her face and warm her lips with soft kisses.

In simpler terms, she wanted everything he could never give to her.

Life should have made perfect sense without him, and yet, it didn't.

She hadn't been able to make sense of the life she had been living before him. And now that she knew he existed, that he was out there somewhere, she couldn't help but listen to the nagging voice inside of her that told her something was missing. Lisa wanted him around, that much was certain. The only thing she was not sure of was what she would do if she ever encountered him again. She would hope that she wouldn't have to say anything, that he could simply gaze into her eyes and understand all that she was feeling. Maybe he wouldn't even have to gaze into her eyes to know the truth. Maybe he would already know what she was feeling because he was feeling it himself.

Maybe. Just maybe.

_I see you, 'cause you won't get out of my way_

_I hear you, 'cause you won't quit screaming my name_

_I feel you, 'cause you won't stop touching my skin_

_I need you, they're coming to take you away_

Lisa felt drained of all energy, all life. Her eyelids felt outrageously heavy, her head was light and tingling. She didn't even recall falling asleep until a loud knock on the front door pulled her from her slumber. She sat up as quickly as her sluggish body allowed her to and tiredly rubbed her eyes. Lisa wondered how long she'd been asleep and stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. 4:45 a.m. Who would be here at this time of night?

Somewhere beneath her chest, Lisa's heart froze.

She knew _exactly _who.

Slowly, she pushed her quivering body away from the couch. Her eyes widened with excitement and adrenaline pulsated thickly through her veins. She moved stealthily across the floor and switched the television off. She noticed her ragged breathing as she approached the sliding closet doors on the opposite side of the room. Quietly, she slid the doors open and gingerly wrapped her fingers around the first object that she could find. When she removed it from the closet and held it in both of her hands, she realized it must have been an umbrella, or perhaps it was her old lacrosse stick. She had been smart enough to take it from her dad's house and keep it in hers for such a situation as this. The heavy object felt good in her hands. She felt powerful, ready for anything.

Another loud knock vibrated against the door.

Lisa tried to swallow the baseball-sized lump in her throat, and raised the weapon over her head, prepared to strike. She cautiously edged towards the door, and keeping the object poised in one hand, she used the other to carefully unlatch the locks on her door. She slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door. As soon as the door was completely open to the night, her hand flew to the object above her head. Lisa brought her arms down to smash in the psycho's head, but at the last minute, she stopped.

Jackson stood there, unmoving, gazing at her with his chilling eyes.

Lisa slowly lowered her weapon, for she realized she had only been prepared to use it on anyone who wasn't Jackson.

Jackson took a step forward, which caused her to take a step back. He filled her entire doorframe. For a moment, nothing existed but the two of them. They merely stood there, frozen statues, taking in the sight of each other. She took note of his slightly longer hair, the light sprinkle of facial hair on his face... the angry, red scar that stood out on his neck. She wanted to reach out and soothe it with her hand, but she was afraid. She didn't know what he was going to do.

Lisa opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again when she realized that no words were going to come out. She could only stand there stupidly, weak and numb under his melting stare. His eyes held hers for several moments, and Lisa could have sworn she saw a flicker of something sparkle in them, but it faded away before she had a chance to figure out what it was. He took another step towards her, and this time, Lisa remained where she was. His hand reached for her, and whether it was in an attempt to strangle her or caress her, she didn't know. She didn't care.

She just needed to feel his touch.

Jackson's fingertips softly brushed against her cheek, a feather-light touch. She was surprised at this simple yet tender action, yet her face leaned into his hand. She closed her eyes, and dropped her weapon, trusting him not to harm her, not to wrap his fingers around her neck. Lisa's cheek rested in his palm, and a tear rolled onto her face as she discovered that this might be the only intimate moment they would ever share. Jackson had probably only come to say goodbye.

Suddenly, Lisa's eyes shot wide open, and her hand viciously shoved his away from her.

Hot tears rushed from her eyes, and words spewed from her mouth like water escaping from an angry rain cloud.

"_Go away_!!" she found herself screaming. "_Get away from me_!"

Jackson took a step towards her and...

Lisa Reisert woke with a start.

She sat straight up on the couch so quickly that she nearly lost her balance and fell off of it. Her heart was thumping so wildly beneath her chest that she thought it would explode. In some strange way, she hoped it would. Sweat dotted her brow, and her damp hair clung to the nape of her neck.

It had only been a dream. Just a dream.

Lisa tried to slow her rapid breathing, but to no avail. It would take a long while before she would relax. Her fingers vigorously rubbed her temples in a useless attempt to calm herself. Her eyes quickly darted around her living room, finding the tv still on. She stared blankly at it, her mind trying to comprehend what was on it, but there was no use.

Lisa glanced at the clock, realizing that she had been asleep for almost an hour. She hadn't really remembered dozing off. The image of Jackson standing in her doorway had seemed too real to be a dream. Her cheek still tingled from where he had touched her, her face felt wet from the tears she had been crying. Lisa shook her head. It was just a dream.

She repeated this mantra over and over in her head, and managed to calm herself after several minutes. She was calm enough to reach over and grab the phone from the table. She used it to call the hotel and tell them she wasn't coming in to work today. It was a privilege that had always been there for her, but she never took advantage of it. She'd never found a real reason to.

Until now.

After she hung up with Cynthia, she lie back down on the couch, her back flat against the cushions, her face tilted towards the ceiling. Lisa wished she could die, right here and now. She wanted to be away from here, wanted to be away from this pain that she suffered from every day. She wanted to be seperated from this earth, with not a thought or a worry left in the whole world.

And Lisa realized even then, even in death, he would still be there, inside her head, calling out her name...

Lisa closed her eyes and replayed the dream over and over in her head, storing every detail in the well-kept memory box of her mind to pull out for later. She knew she would. She could see Jackson standing in her doorway, could see him reaching out to stroke her. Lisa could feel herself closing her eyes, feel herself trusting him, could feel him palming her cheek. She could feel herself suddenly becoming angry and pushing his hand away. She could hear herself screaming words of hatred at him.

_Go away!! Get away from me!_

Lisa shuddered as she opened her eyes. She looked around.

Go away. Get away from me.

It pained her to realize he already was.


End file.
